Underneath The Same Starry Night
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: Hermione Granger is looking for a change. Two years after divorcing Bill Weasley, she is asked to attend a formal gathering held by the Ministry of Magic where she meets a mysterious stranger from her past. She soon realizes that there is more than meets the eye with her newly acquainted friend and she finds herself more drawn to him with each encounter.


**Warning: **This is an AU (Alternate Universe) piece. There is mild language in this piece and adult situations. You've been warned.

**Characters: **Hermione Granger; Ginny Weasley. (Characters will be updated as they appear).

**Summary: **Hermione Granger is looking for a change. Two years after divorcing Bill Weasley, she is asked to attend a formal gathering held by the Ministry of Magic where she meets a mysterious stranger from her past. She soon realizes that there is more than meets the eye with her newly acquainted friend and she finds herself more drawn to him with each encounter. When his identity is finally revealed, will she stand by his side or will she break away from the thing that kept them underneath the same starry night?

**Author's Note:** I'm back again with another WIP! I was supposed to submit this piece for a writing competition, but failed to do so because of my work schedule. I hope with my new schedule I can continue with the countless WIP's that I've lined up to update. Please be patient if this one takes longer to update.

_As always, enjoy_

-Carolare Scarletus

**Underneath The Same Starry Night**

Hermione Granger looked arbitrarily at her watch, checking the time once again. She'd been invited to an exclusive event held by the Ministry of Magic in downtown London. As much as she wanted to enjoy herself, the atmosphere had dwindled significantly and she was forced to nurse a teal-colored cocktail she'd order over an hour ago. A speed dating service had been set up in the back of the ballroom, though she had no intention of drawing out the already dismal night by sitting down with a stranger and awkwardly waiting for the five minutes to be up. Last time she tried, she was given a photograph of her date's unmentionables, and she swore to herself that she would never partake in such a demeaning game ever again.

With a nonchalant expression, she looked around the large room and took in as much as the decor as she could. A large light teal chandelier, which had been adorned with rotating crystals and multicolored jewels, stole the spotlight. Small iridescent lights danced across the marbled floor, and she couldn't help but be mesmerized by their mysterious moves. There was a portrait of the current Minister of Magic, placed strategically in the center of the room, addressing all who entered the ballroom as he moved acknowledgingly and smiled brilliantly at all who entered. Hermione tilted her head as she considered the night.

Formal gatherings were never her thing. Back when she was still with Bill, going to the Burrow had become a chore because of their relationship. She knew her marriage with him was falling apart; Bill had absolutely no interest in her and the only thing he cared about was his career. They'd eloped when they thought she was expecting, but they quickly learned that it had been a false alarm. It was due to a late period from stress at work. Needless to say, her marriage was completely and utterly invalid. The only reason he agreed to divorce was that he didn't want to be tied down to her. They both had their whole lives ahead of them and marriage wasn't something they had been ready for.

She knew he was right, but it didn't lessen the pinch she felt in her chest.

Although Hermione was married once before, she was hoping to never repeat the mistake by getting too intoxicated or falling for someone she wasn't completely in love with.

Hermione took another pull of her cocktail, already determined to enjoy the evening even if that meant she was parading around in a scandalous red dress Ginny had given her. She finished school and went to play Quidditch for a couple of years before the idea of opening a clothing store came to her. Hermione had been excited and supportive of her decision, but often wondered why the red-haired witch wanted to live a more Muggle lifestyle.

She spent the last twenty minutes fidgeting with the two slits on both sides of her hips. It had ridden ridiculously high, stopping just before it reached her hip bone and she was trying to figure out a way to stop it from showing too much. Hermione hadn't moved an inch since she arrived, knowing that anyone who paid enough attention would see her flash her long legs. That kind of attention wasn't what she wanted. The deep 'v' of the halter top didn't help, either. Hermione felt sorely out of place, wearing a dress meant for a supermodel. Her hair had been tamed and hung over her left shoulder in voluminous waves. For a Ministry event, she was overdressed, and she wanted nothing more than to leave.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

Hermione turned, clenching the soft fabric of her dress.

A slightly older gentleman stood before her, dressed in a sleek royal blue suit and black tie. An expensive watch adorned his right wrist, accompanied by silver cuffs. He looked well put together, but Hermione couldn't help but gawk at his handsome face. His eyes were the first thing she noticed, which happened to be dark and the exact hue of asphalt. Eyes were supposed to the windows to the soul, so she wondered if he was as dark and cold as his eyes were trying to convey. There was another thing she couldn't help but admire, and that was the strong build of his jaw and the aristocratic aura of his person. Although she couldn't pinpoint exactly where she remembered him, there was something certainly familiar about him that made Hermione forget her place.

"These kinds of functions aren't my thing," he continued as if he didn't notice her staring at him. Despite his statement, he looked fairly comfortable with his person and prompted Hermione to question him. "Conversing with people hasn't always been my strongest asset, either."

Hermione licked her lips, sweeping her tongue across her parched lips before daring to speak. "Formal functions held by the Ministry of Magic isn't your thing, sir? The way you're dressed tonight would beg to differ."

Her guest chuckled at her comment. She could have sworn his eyes flashed with malice or perhaps intrigue. Hermione couldn't tell which.

"Clearly, you're not used to this sort of setting."

"What gave that away?"

"I've been watching you from the moment you arrived. You've been here for almost an hour and haven't even finished your drink."

"And, that's supposed to determine I'm not used to this type of atmosphere?"

"No, but I did notice you haven't moved since you arrived." The gentleman moved closer to her, gauging her reaction and admiring her as his eyes swept over her person. His eyes lingered on her face, before drifting down the column of her neck and to her chest. She wanted to cover herself up, though something told her that he wouldn't allow it. Whoever this man was, he was demanding, even if he didn't speak a single word or hinted at an order. "Afraid that someone may see those gorgeous legs of yours?"

"I beg your pardon," Hermione exclaimed, floored by his brazen comment. "How dare you say something outrageous as that!"

"Have I struck a nerve with you?" His elegant brow lifted, indicating to Hermione that he was suggesting something more elicit than just how shapely her legs were. "Accept my sincerest apologies. I knew from the moment I saw you, I recognized you from somewhere. For the life of me, I can't remember from where."

Before Hermione could protest, her unwanted guest suggested something that almost had her questioning what she heard. Fortunately for her, he was friendly enough to repeat himself.

"You heard me," he told her softly. "Let's play our own little speed dating game. Don't act like you weren't drawn to the back of the ballroom, wondering if you'd find mister right in the sea of fashionable suitors who are dying to meet your acquaintance. I do hope you're not here to repeat the mistake from your first marriage. I can tell you right now that he isn't there, so there is no harm in playing along with my game."

"How did you know…" she whispered frantically.

"I didn't," he smiled, showing a full set of perfectly white teeth. "You just told me. Come on, I'll find us a seat, and it'll give you a chance to finish that cocktail." He nodded to her glass. All the ice had melted, and she wondered briefly if that was any indication as to what he had planned. He wanted to break down all of her barriers, to loosen up and if that meant playing his game, she would most certainly get something out of it as well.

Carefully, Hermione peeled herself from her secure corner, her cocktail in hand. Her mystery man placed a careful hand on her lower back, and she could have sworn he dipped lower, caressing her backside for a split second, before placing his hand firmly on her hip. She looked cautiously over her shoulder, once again trying to figure out where she'd seen him. Had it been at school? Surely, she would have recognized him by now, but nothing about the well-tailored man was ringing any bells.

He led her to a secluded area of the ballroom, away from the crowds of people waltzing on the floor. The portrait of the Minister could scarcely be seen through the sea of people waltzing around and conversing with one another. Even the entertainment selected for the evening had become a quiet murmur in the background as they sat down at a small table, facing each other. Hermione adjusted her dress carefully, looking at the man to ensure that he wasn't looking at her. However, that was a lost cause because he was staring intently at her with those dark, mysterious eyes of his.

"Now that we're settled." He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward in his chair. "I have one on you. You may ask me anything that may aid you in figuring out who I am, aside from asking me exactly that."

"Now that you know I've been married before, I suppose that will be my first question."

"And, what would that be?"

"Are you married?" she asked, annoyed by his casual demeanor. Whoever he was, he wasn't what she expected.

It took him longer than she imagined to answer. "I was married once before. Unfortunately, it didn't work out."

"Why, what happened?"

Hermione tilted her head questioningly. She wished for him to answer, but judging by the heartbroken look in his eyes, something told her that he wasn't ready to divulge such sensitive information to her.

"Ah, that would be two that you have on me and I cannot allow that." He chuckled, reclaiming his composure. A shiver ran through her. "I believe it's my turn, which is only fair. Now, what shall I ask? Just by the way you are dressed, I can assume that whoever you were married to was a fucking bastard. He didn't see the jewel he had in front of him, and you are only now realizing your true potential, is that correct?"

Hermione nodded slowly, taken aback by his ability to read her so easily.

It was true, Bill hadn't been the most romantic or sensitive man she'd met. Even before they got married, his career had been the only thing he cared about; Hermione was always left in the dirt. She often pondered what she saw in him. Love was always the motivator; she would've done anything for him, but it was time to start doing something for herself. His words seemed to cut deeper than he intended and it made her second guess every major decision in her short life. This man could draw things out like none other could, and Hermione was frightened of what she may discover.

"Your silence speaks for you."

She shook her head. "No, I'm more stunned that you were able to deduce that just by looking at me."

"There's more than meets the eye," her mysterious stranger smiled. "I believe it's your turn, Madam."

Hermione thought for a moment, considering her options carefully. She could ask him anything she desired, and if he wished it, he would answer. She bit her lip again, drawing her tongue against the back of her lips as she thought about all the possible revenues she could explore. While she did, she could feel the heat of his eyes boring into her as if he was trying to figure her out in return. He couldn't possibly be able to extract such information by just looking at her unless he had some insight on her experiences.

"What is going through that mind of yours," he asked before she had the chance to speak.

With a sharp intake of air she said," It's my turn to ask the question."

"You were taking entirely too long," he laughed. "Besides, this is a speed dating game, no? Time is of the essence, and I want to know that my pursuit isn't a waste of time."

"And, what is your idea of a waste of time?"

"Ah, a question." He leaned back against his chair and drew a line against his strong chin. Hermione couldn't help but be drawn in by the action. She became almost mesmerized by the action before her eyes were drawn to his once again. "I may have an answer if you're willing to accept this gracious hand of mine."

"Are you on some sort of time restraint, sir?" Hermione looked at him dubiously. "If that's the case, we can end this right now and save the trouble of you becoming disappointed."

"Who said I was disappointed?"

"I-I…"

"I can very well tell you that you're not a disappointment. In fact," he leaned toward her, his eyes glittering with mischief, "I think you are well worth my time. You intrigue me, and it's been a while since anyone stole my attention as you've done."

"I'm certain you don't know what you're talking about," Hermione huffed, agitated.

His voice like a sweet melody, and his words were the notes that pulled her in.

She didn't know what sort of magic he was using, but she was undeniably hooked. It's been entirely too long since she'd been wooed by anyone, that is certain. Bill wasn't as eloquent as the gentleman that sat before her, nor was he as suave. He was rugged and demeaning, surely the polar opposite of the man that grabbed her attention and said such sweet nothings as if they were just words to throw around among casual acquaintances.

In this moment of time, there was just the two of them.

Like some cosmic mistake, the universe had thrown them together. Perhaps, he was a willing participant, and he sought her attention out; Hermione didn't know, nor did she care to contemplate it before her attention was stolen once again by her delightful stranger.

"I believe our time is up," he whispered, the promise of another meeting insinuated within his words. "I must say, you have made this dreadful evening more palatable, and I must commend you for earnest desire to humble me."

"The pleasure is all mine," Hermione told him dumbly. She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't properly form. Instead, she smiled as she hoped that one day he'd make promise on his unspoken word that he'd find her again.


End file.
